


While You were Sleeping

by JusticeTokidoki



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Body Worship, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hurt Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mentioned Kairi (Kingdom Hearts), Mentioned Riku (Kingdom Hearts), Mentioned Xion (Kingdom Hearts), Out of Body Experiences, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Romance, Sleepiness, Sleepwalking, Sora (Kingdom Hearts) Needs a Hug, Sora (Kingdom Hearts)'s Heart, Soul-Searching, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 03:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18460775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusticeTokidoki/pseuds/JusticeTokidoki
Summary: Roxas keeps seeing Sora when he's just trying to sleep. He's got it bad.





	While You were Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> This story was a birthday gift for @tzavine that I'm finally posting here. Enjoy! Let's just say things are weird when you're sleep deprived.

Roxas couldn't recall when it started. Or rather, what caused it. But every day was the same. He would get home from from school, haphazardly fling his backpack into the couch, then he would ever so quietly tiptoe towards his room and slowly open the door. 

And there he was. His brown hair adrift sideways, edges blue from the moonlight, framing a heart-shaped face. His pink lips stretched in a small, uncharacteristic frown, brows furrowed in concentration, as if he were pondering a serious question. 

The facial tic went away as quick as it came as calloused hands gripped the sheets, legs bunched up. The baggy plaid pants and jacket appeared blue, perhaps the leftover mark of using a magical form. 

Yellow previously. Blue this time. What color would he appear in next? It was all part of a game Roxas played in order to distract himself. The facial expressions, whether or not the soles of his visitor’s shoes would mark the sheets or not. If his fluttering eyelids taken prisoner by R.E.M. sleep would open up just this once. 

But that would be asking too much. Sora wasn't truly there after all. 

Whatever mirage that was currently taking up his whole bed frame was simply that. An image, the leftover whispers of a heart. Roxas’ own personal demon.

 _Of course it had to be today._ His knees nearly buckled under his weight but he stayed put, fighting the black lines in his vision as the area behind his eyes pulsed in agony. 

In contrast, his steady heart played a familiar tune. Beating in time with his footsteps as Roxas’ stopped at the edge of the bed. As if in response to his movement Sora shifted under his gaze, turning his head slightly. His mouth parted and a contented breath eased out. 

Roxas lowered himself to his knees. He was breaking the rules, dangerously approaching the line past insanity. But his heart compelled him once more to get closer. 

Sora’s lips were just an inch below his now, an alluring pink color, and with that Roxas decided whatever comes next could do him in. He was too tired to fully comprehend the future of what his actions would bring.

But for the first time in months he felt bold. 

He leaned down an inch more, allowing his mouth to naturally fit into Sora’s, ripping apart the carefully stitched in rules he had placed for himself. 

In total it lasted five seconds; Him pressing his lips to Sora’s, breathing him in, warmth spreading across his chest. This isn't supposed to happen. This wasn't right.

_But it feels…_

_Real._

Reluctantly, whether it be from fear or guilt, Roxas straightened his back and snatched away control from his heart. His eyes were blurring everything together, but it was all the same. 

The messy brown hair. The fuller, spike-framed face, his perfect lips, and his- 

Roxas bolted up, taking a step back. Sora’s eyes were half-lidded, barely open, and yet his gaze speared Roxas in the gut. Confusion, honesty, with a hint of something dark. 

Roxas opened his mouth, anxiety skyrocking, and then just like that Sora was gone. 

…..xxxxxxxxxxx…..

It wasn't the same for everyone. In the months after Sora’s disappearance (it was the only word Roxas would accept) various people connected to him carried various symptoms. 

Ventus had been the most forthcoming about his experience. It wasn't like Roxas had latched onto the wielder. Hell, on the contrary Ventus freaked him out a tad. Sure, there were noticeable differences. Ventus’ angular face, the lighter hair that was literally the highlights of Roxas’ dirty blonde tornado mop. 

But above all there was this earnestness, an almost otherworldly wisdom that betrayed Ventus’ age. Roxas just always felt small in his presence, and seeing someone you fearfully admire break down in terror was a sight Roxas wouldn't wish on his worse enemy. 

Sometimes he'd catch an expression, Ven’s pale face twisted in despair, open mouth parted, and the sight was so damn painful that Roxas would feel the tears burning up. 

Why he still talked to him is anyone’s guess. But outside those unbidden moments generally Ventus talked so casually about it all that Roxas felt calmer hearing his theories. 

His voice helped. A soft tenor that was a little too high to match his own gravelly alto. “It's farther today.”

“What is?” Roxas knew the answer, of course, but he really just wanted to hear Ventus explain things. 

Ventus sighed. “Sora’s voice. The dream was mostly the same but the setting was different. I think it took place at the islands but I’m not sure.” 

“Huhnn.” Roxas stares at the sky, truly feeling the breeze. With the lack of ripe vegetation in The Land of Departure, he knew nothing much was blocking the gusts that danced along his pores. 

“Still nothing for you? Nothing weird or strange.” If it had been anyone else the question would have been probing. But Ventus’ posture and feet were fully angled towards Roxas. His eyes welcomed him and asked him for nothing. 

And yet, Roxas wasn’t ready to move past his telegraphed response. He ended up saying his prepared statement almost too quickly. “No. Same as always.”

“Good… I know that's what you'd want.” Ven said all this while giving a short nod, returning his eyes to the sky. “Sora would have wanted you to focus on yourself, really love and seize every moment and… just be you.”

Roxas swallowed audibly. “Yeah, myself.”

_Whatever that is._

…xxxxxxxxx…..

It's a statement he’s pondered repeatedly ever since the war against Xehanort ended. The pain and loss from all his limited experiences caused by the old menace has made it so that he clung even harder to the ordinary beats of life. 

To really explore and expand upon his future with more than just a week. He’s desperate to fit back into society, to assimilate and become a faceless part of the crowd. 

Ever since Sora disappeared he’s refused to summon his keyblade even. Unless the situation was desperate he never wanted to bring them out ever again. 

Though it's his choice and life, he knows his pact of nonviolence and willingness to… not be a part of the search for Sora has bought him a few incredulous looks. 

Naturally, Kairi and Riku are the most displeased with his decision. They’ve been at this nonstop and whenever Roxas sees them it takes a lot to not run in the other direction. 

Xion always tries to keep the peace when things are tense, and Roxas really doesn't deserve her. Especially when he’s been partially avoiding her too. 

It's one thing being a sleep deprived mess and seeing your phantom “other” laying in your linen sheets. It's all together too much to encounter him again when interacting with your best friend. 

He hasn't told her he sees Sora’s face on her more often than not. But whether she's aware or not, she doesn't pry or invade his personal space and for that during these trying times it's a godsend. 

He smiled sadly at this thought, rubbing his eyes. And of course the smile drifted away as quick as it came when he caught a glimpse of chocolate spikes. 

It was becoming more common, a rhyming promise every other day. Roxas stared at the boy and again the battle raged within him. Despite Sora nearly catching him last time his heart still shuddered in longing. 

If anyone had told Roxas he would first really recognize his own heartbeat when thinking of Sora’s face, he would have told them to jump a cliff. 

Now he accepted it reluctantly, that for some reason he had a crush on Sora, and he was seriously thinking of kissing whatever ghost haunting him just to receive closure for the night. 

He had no idea what he was doing, why out of the weird voices, dreams, and other semblances of grief, he was the one Sora’s “body” chose to visit. 

Spirit, body, form… he couldn't comprehend the situation. But the sleepier he became, the more he couldn't resist the aching in his heart, and the sooner Sora would answer the call. Always loyal, eyes closed, hands fisted in whatever blankets lay beneath. 

All of that and other new tics tied to that uncharacteristic frown that Roxas wished with all his heart he could make disappear. 

_Fuck._

He bent down at their bedside (because, frankly, it hasn't been his bed for a while), watching Sora sleep. He tapped the floor, swallowing. “....Now’s a really bad time. I'm sorry but… I just really need you to go. I don't know what to do. I can't do anything for you. Go to Kairi, hell, go to Riku. They have more to offer.”

_Ugh, why am I talking? What am I doing?_

“Come on, man. I just want to sleep and I can't with you here. I just want…” He sighs, swallowing down his confession. 

He wanted to stay out of it. He just wanted to live his life outside the shadow of old, away from the ebbing effects of darkness, keyblades. 

But… 

“I miss you. We’ve barely spoken and I miss you.” And he didn't deserve to. Roxas felt this to his core, and then the shame hit him hard. The tears came unbidden and he shut his eyes closed tight, repeatedly biting down hard on his own bottom lip to hold back the sob building up. 

What comes next is a low gasp, a jolt from his right, and a wavering whisper slurred from sleep. 

“....doesn't that hurt?”

 _Oh._

_Oh no._

_Oh god._

Roxas stubbornly kept his eyes closed. His heart was practically begging now, but he maintained his stiff posture, saying nothing. 

“Roxas…? Can you hear me?” Bolder, yet hesitant. A rich tenderness that he had always carried so well.

But it still wasn't real. It wasn't something Roxas should engage in. He needed to focus, stay alert, wait calmly for that cool silence that meant he was in reality. He had to be the one who-

His face. 

Touched. Something was touching his face. 

“Roxas… do you feel this?” Softly, as if Roxas’ face was made of porcelain, thumbs and fingers brushed say the tears, then rested on the sides of Roxas’ face. When Roxas opens his eyes he’s met with a smile full of hope and relief. “I've finally found you.”

It was so unexpected, so unfathomable to him. Found him? Finally? 

Was Sora implying that these weird visits weren't an accident? Seeking him over everyone else? 

“Why?” Roxas choked this out but it was too late. The warmth of his palms, the breathtaking grin, the light of the room. 

Sora was gone. 

_Why me?_

…xxxxxxxxxxxx…….

Roxas had tried sleeping in other rooms, spending the night at Hayner’s or Pence’s, even just chilling at the clock tower and camping out there. No matter where he was, if it wasn't his cursed bedroom his body refused to fall asleep. 

Yet he persisted, Doing everything he could think of. By day four without sleep he was truly a zombie and he cursed whatever god in this world had decided his life had to suck this hard. 

A sleeping Sora was a beautiful Sora, ethereal even. A semi-sleeping Sora was risky but still welcome. A fully awake Sora purposefully choosing him out of everyone to visit to send some sort of message yet still failing… 

That was dangerous. His heart lurched from the pain of avoiding it all, from the silence. But Roxas was stubborn. 

Sure, he had no idea in hell what he was doing. Sure, he couldn't reason why he couldn't share this problem with Kairi or Riku even though they deserved to see Sora more than himself. 

Sure, he couldn't even remotely comprehend how his feelings reached a point where being in any physical proximity to Sora made him want to sink and soar at the same time. 

No. Only one thing was certain. He needed to sleep. 

A dead man walking, he made his way back home, watching the blurry Sora's mulling to and fro, a sea of mirages all dancing, sliding, and slipping, lighting his way back. 

This was more like a memory. The Final World, or so he assumed. Sometimes the memories would cloud his vision, and it was the closest Roxas came to dreaming. Memories, memories…

Still nothing of his own. He guessed he hadn't done enough, that his “body” was too new for that. 

_Pfft, some body. A shell._

_A fake._

He shuddered, hugging himself, pushing away the dark thoughts but they lingered in the air as he entered his house. As he approached his bedroom he hissed at the form on his bed. This time he could see an arm draped over the edge, fingers curled and touching the floor. 

_At least someone gets to sleep._

The jealousy nearly overtook him, even as his heart erupted in warmth and joy, mixing with the anger and frustration. He wondered if he could just curl up then and there with Sora in sight. Get the bare 3 hours if he was lucky and Sora disappeared quick. 

But his body had enough momentum, wobbling him through his bedroom door. Stopped abruptly, nearly falling to the ground, but he gripped the doorknob to stay up, gritting his teeth. 

He braced himself, and fully looked at Sora, taking him in as well as he could through a squint. 

It wasn't enough. He was unprepared. 

Sora stared straight back, eyes fully alert, but his body was tense, muscles rigid as he gripped the edge of the bed. The small frown was back, and seeing it on him when he was awake struck Roxas directly in the chest. 

But also, Sora just kept staring, eyes taking him in. The concern in his gaze had long since shifted into something else. 

Something predatorial. 

_Oh shit. Screw sleep._

Whatever butterfly, swirling, anticipatory nausea that held him there in Sora’s gaze wasn't enough to keep him in the room. No, his hand had been poised to turn the doorknob. He really could have been out of there in a second. 

No, what kept him from escaping was both astonishing and terrifying. 

And embarrassing.

He was in the air, filling up the room, slowly collecting in the corner until he was just a heart, staring down at events.

Sora was still staring straight up at him in the corner, eyes a little wide from shock. Then he glances back down and Roxas steeled himself, feeling really sick. 

His body. Or rather, the shell. A white head molded into the features of a face. White hands, shining like marble in the lamp light. No hair, no color, just a blank human shape wearing his clothes. 

Roxas hated himself with every fiber of his being. For this to happen in front of Sora. 

_Fake. You're just a fake._

“Hey.” Roxas’ heart stilled. Sora was looking up on his direction again. The frown was a snarl almost now. “Don't talk about yourself like that.”

He couldn't say he was surprised. Hell, Sora wasn't actually there, or maybe it was just Sora’s heart, which would allow him to hear Roxas’ thoughts.

Or maybe he was just some cruel joke to add onto the reasons why none of this was real. Even outside his body Roxas is always tired. 

Fake. Fake. Fake. Why had he tried to deny this? Why was he even trying? 

Sora, somehow, but to no surprise because it's Sora, continued to glare at him. He then ignored the restless heart above him, cradling Roxas’ body and placing it on the bed. 

He reached out, touching Roxas’ chin, his nose, then ran a hand through his “hair.” The display made Roxas, in his formless pit of loathing feel… strange. 

What was Sora doing? Why… could he feel everything happening when he wasn't even in there? 

_Confusing._

“Tell me about it.” Sora laughed from below. It was the first time Roxas realized that even though Sora was awake he still had bags under his eyes. 

He was still tired. 

Roxas… understood how that felt. Sora? 

“Yeah?”

Why me?

The air grew colder as and somehow Roxas shivered despite only being a heart. Sora then turned, glancing up at him, as if to make sure of something. He then slowly crawled over the body. 

A kiss to the forehead. A kiss to his cheeks. One kiss at the tip of his nose. 

Then, finally, warm pink lips connected to Roxas’, a soft teasing pressure. The white hands bloomed into a tan as he gripped Sora’s hair. Tears streamed down his face as he got control over his legs, tangling them up around Sora’s waist. 

He opened fresh blue eyes and for the first time felt awake. And Sora was still above him, smiling again, laughing. “See? You're not a fake.” He slowly stretches out of his jacket, leaving it on Roxas’ chest, giving him full view of his toned arms as he brought them up, bending them back so he could reach behind his neck. 

Roxas couldn't speak, only sweat as Sora unhooked the lock keeping his necklace in place, placing the crown pendant over Roxas’ heart in his chest. “You’re not fake. And neither am I.”

There was so much Roxas wanted to say, to do. But there was never enough time. He could feel it, the limit hitting its mark. Sora turned away from him, and Lifted his hand enough to where Roxas’ could make out angry red numbers counting down in military time. 

“Sora?” He swallowed, sitting up slowly, clutching Sora’s jacket and pendant tightly. He had to tell him, had to ask him, had to say something. 

Sora watched him all the while, ever patient, the dark circles more prominent due to the lighting and red shine from his hand. He gently grips Roxas’ hands, squeezing them, and just before his form turns blue Sora lets out a low chuckle. “It has to be you.”

Roxas’ eyes widen and Sora leans in close, their foreheads touch. Sora smiles and disappears just as a single tear from his face lands directly on his crown pendant. 

Roxas stared at the coat and pendant still in his hands for a very long time. He cradled them close, shaking in relief instead of grief. “He’s real.”

I'm real. 

…xxxxxxxxxxx…...

Roxas slept for over 48 hours. No one dared to disturb him. When he finally came to there was a note on his dresser. A sloppy sketch of an island with wobbly palm trees, a crown in the right corner, and a time in the left. 

Roxas held the note for a long time, turning it over, holding it up to the light. As he did that he touched the crown pendant, now on his own neck entangled with his x-insignia. He scratched near the base of it, frowning and quickly checks the mirror in his restroom when the paranoia hits. 

The light, blasted on, revealed his pale face, alert eyes, and a mouth shaped red mark on his collarbone where he had been scratching. 

It took a few minutes, as Roxas is out of practice, but when he lifts his finger to touch the red imprint on his skin, he can no longer hold it in. 

A small crooked grin. 

…xxxxxxxxx…...

 

Roxas decided to be selfish one last time. He knew he should have the whole gang there to ambush Sora. Hell, it was enough that he had seen Sora throughout these few months. All that torture, and yet, he still craved Sora. 

Was a tad possessive of him even. And in the end, he figured, Sora had chosen him. He wanted to understand that truly now without the pressure and onslaught of everyone else’s emotions to disrupt the conversation. 

It's a decision he's okay with feeling guilty over. And it's a decision he’ll eventually become immensely grateful for.

When Sora arrived at the island, shooting down from the sky as if he did it regularly, Roxas immediately knew something was wrong. The dread in his heart, the pain, a remnant of their telepathic connection perhaps. 

But it was Sora’s expression. The confusion, fear, the look of someone who was literally and figuratively lost. 

The look persisted as he walked forward wherever the waves carried him. When he noticed Roxas it was the first sign of recognition and he charged at Roxas as if he were his lifeline. 

It wouldn't be far from the truth. Over the next few weeks there are many discussions. Reaper’s Game? The World Ends With You? World Lines? 

The costs of the game back to his life. Memories of friends, dipping and shifting away like the sand by the seashores. Every friend Sora has ever encountered one by one, until only one person anchored his way back. A person he had chosen from the start. 

Roxas was starting to wish he hadn't been so eager to learn the truth. But this time he doesn't run away. 

The recovery would be long, painful even. But each memory Sora would need was stored somewhere in him. And whichever ones that were lost could be remade anew along the way. 

Often times close to midnight Sora will ask the same question, a warm repetition of a phrase that always stumbled at the back of Roxas’ lips from before. 

Why me?

In particular, usually Sora meant love. Not the easiest of questions to answer. But usually Roxas has a telegraphed yet meaningful reply on his lips. 

“I can't answer the why or the how. But I always know how it began. It was while you were sleeping.”


End file.
